Baptism of Fire
by jojogirl
Summary: She wondered what he'd do if she'd just let it down, if she'd just be Kate for once. In all her glorious ugliness. Jate one shot.


**Author's Note:** This is the first Lost fic I've ever written. I'm relatively new to that fandom and wanted to start with a one shot before getting myself into too much. Inspiration not so much hit me as stung me this time. Blame the stupid wasp if you want to lol. Thanks to Tej and Mariah for betaing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost. Or Foxy. But he pwns me.

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**Baptism of Fire**

She should have known better. She should have known better than just to bat the thing away that had sat on her shoulder. After all they were somewhere in the tropics and this might not just be a mosquito or an ordinary midget.

But she had felt antsy and nervous the whole afternoon. Walking with Jack through the underbush; his overpowering presence continuously breathing down her neck did that to her. It wasn't really that he tried to make her restless. He just did. He had this thing about him, where he would look at her and with that one single look she knew that he wanted to make her talk, to make her spill, to make her share her secrets with him.

Sawyer never did that. Sawyer didn't want to know. It wasn't that Sawyer didn't care. He just knew better. And it wasn't as if Jack didn't know better. He just cared too much.

To Kate, being with Jack sometimes seemed like a constant struggle. Like dressing up for an event though you'd rather stay at home in your comfortable sweatpants. Being with Jack was constant tugging at non-existent formal clothing. It was trying to be her nicest, friendliest self at best - and faking at worst.

She wondered what he'd do if she'd just let it down, if she'd just be Kate for once.

In all her glorious ugliness. She smiled sadly at the thought. What made her even more nervous than being around him was him touching her. His hands were even more persuasive than his words and his looks. The problem was that part of Kate wanted to be persuaded and part of Kate wanted to brush him off, and she did not really know which part was real.

Then that damn thing had set itself on her neck and she hadn't thought, just batted it away. So damn typical of her. Act… and then think.

Act, then regret.

And boy had she regretted it when she had felt the stinging pain from the bite. Most definitely not a mosquito.

"Dammit!"

Jack halted when he heard Kate swear. He had noticed that she was particularly tense today but this was unusual even for her. He turned around to look at her, standing there in the small clearing they had just crossed. Her face was scrunched up in pain and she held her shoulder.

With a few determined strides he was by her side, stare inquisitive as ever. Doctor mode. He knew that that probably pissed her off but he couldn't help it. The want to fix was as engraved in his soul as were the tattoos in the skin on his upper arm.

"Something's stung me," she explained.

The bite was already beginning to swell, quickly forming a bright red imprint on the smooth expanse of skin on her neck. Kate hissed audibly, drawing in the air through her row of teeth deeply dug into her quivering bottom lip. Brows furrowed under a mass of unruly curls, she twisted her head around trying to get a look at the spot, but she wasn't able to. The bite was right at the base of her neck, where it flew in one gracious curve into her shoulder.

Jack threw his backpack on the muddy ground and drew her body towards him in one swift moment, taking charge. To his surprise she let him, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. It was a gesture of unfamiliar vulnerability that startled Jack. It was so unlike Kate. As she stood there, head bent, offering him his neck, she reminded him of a cornered animal surrendering to a dominant aggressor. It wasn't because she wanted to; she held still because she had learned that she couldn't run from him. She was breathing heavily and when he touched her shoulder, it was almost as much to calm her down as to examine her.

Kate forced herself to stand still, to let Jack do what he did best. After all she couldn't even see the spot where the insect had stung her and it was probably wiser to have him let a look at it. Nonetheless she didn't like being at someone's mercy. Not even Jack's.

Especially not Jack's.

But then, when his hands came into contact with her shoulder, Kate found there was nothing aggressive about his touch. Nothing dominant about his probing fingers, no sign of intimidating power. Just a firm tenderness that was infinitely him. She reasoned that it was probably the fact that he was a doctor. He was good. Even though it was purely an act of necessity, his tentative touch felt strangely intimate. There was something deeply unsettling about his large, calloused hands pulling the straps of her backpack off and his fingertips dancing over her shoulders, brushing away her strands of hair. They riled her up; their strong tenderness tugging on her already crumbling walls, threatening to tear them down. Their sense of purpose made her feel cherished and sensual and scared. She didn't feel like his patient. She felt wanted.

"Probably a wasp," he said, assessing the bite matter-of-factly. "You aren't allergic, are you?" His voice ripped her back into the here and now; the jungle, the heat, the sounds around them. She shook her head and tried to turn around again, but he bent her neck just a notch more to the side. Gentle like only big men can be. "This might hurt a little." His voice, too, held a soothing quality, as if he was talking to a horse about to buck. Kate smiled lopsidedly. The comparison wasn't too farfetched, really.

She hissed again, this time because the stinging pain from the bite was now replaced by the more gentle but equally disturbing sensation of Jack's soft, wet mouth.

And then she felt pain again, as he began to suck. It hurt, just as he had said that it would but this kind of pain was a familiar one. A pain she wanted to lose herself in, the kind of pain she had always sought. The kind of pain that told her she was still alive.

Kate was an addict to that pain. One touch, one taste and she was a goner. As Jack fell into a dizzying rhythm of sucking and spitting out the poison, time began to feel differently for her.

She grew detached and distant, but it was not the kind of thing were one feels as if they are stepping out of their body, not able to feel anything anymore. She had had those moments in her life too, but this wasn't one of them.

Now time seemed to bend and melt and drag along and grow into moments and days and years. The universe seemed to expand and then shrink and condense until existence was reduced to one single feeling, one single sensation; Jack's mouth on her neck. She felt infinitely small and then infinitely huge, her body out of proportion, and it came all down to _him. _It was almost as if Jack was sucking the life right out and giving it back to her, all in the same moment. As if he was taking away the edge of things, drawing out all the pain and the guilt. As if he was able to replace all that had tainted and made Kate Austen and replacing it with something new and pure. Her whole body was falling into limber abandon, growing heavy and yet weightless at the same time.

The only coherent thought she could form was that if Jack would remove his mouth, she'd either fly away or crumble to the ground. She had no bones anymore, no spine to hold her upright, she was floating and spilling over and falling into his touch. Jack was her umbilical cord, his mouth rooting her in this world like a lifeline, keeping her in place and sane.

She was being reborn. It was not a painless act, but a cleansing one. She would burn and perish or come out alive the other end. Kate didn't care either way. All that mattered was him, holding her.

Jack closed his eyes when his lips came into contact with her hot, salty skin.

He had to act quickly, before the poison would move further into her bloodstream, so he covered the bite with his mouth. He knew he would be hurting her but he began to suck nonetheless. A bitter taste filling his mouth, he spit out and repeated the process. Time and time again. After a while he got dizzy from the lack of oxygen but he kept going.

He kept going as she melded into his touch and he could feel her weight heavy against his hands, this somehow steadying him as much as her.

He kept going as he started to hear the blood drumming in his ears.

He kept going as she sighed almost inaudibly and he could feel her skin throb underneath his lips.

He drew out the poison until he couldn't taste anything anymore apart from the sweat on her skin and the coppery taste of blood on his tongue.

He wasn't sure if it was hers or his but either way it was mingling in his mouth, heavy on his palate like communion wine. Jack was not a religious man but holding Kate like this, kissing and sucking and licking her, it felt not like a precaution, a medical necessity. It felt like a sacrament. He knew he was going to leave a mark, like a baptism gone awry. And in an odd way, this satisfied him.

She could feel him easing the pressure, and herself falling back into the real world. To her surprise, Kate landed on her own two feet, able to stand albeit the fact that she was shaking. But his hands were still holding her shoulders up and there was still his mouth on her neck and then he took it away, gently, hesitantly even, running his tongue across her swollen, sensitive skin as if to soothe it.

His lips brushed against the sore spot one last time.

Kate released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. He blew on her wet skin to cool it off and she shivered at the loss of contact and the new, heavy sensation.

Jack swallowed. Her skin was a deep rosy shade, melting into the most vibrant purples and blues around the bite. It looked bad but it would be better in a few hours. Nothing compared to the reaction the poison would have caused. Eventually, the bruise would fade too.

He found himself wishing that it wouldn't.

"I think I got most of it out. It shouldn't swell as much now." He bent down to gather his backpack again, causing Kate to knit her brows in confusion. Jack's tone was distant, almost upset. The words coming from his swollen lips seemed to take hours to reach her ears, for her to comprehend. "If you get any heavy reaction within the next 24 hours come to me immediately, okay?"

She nodded, sensing that there were no words just now, and that he was trying his best to show that he cared for her. The one way that he knew. But then, she didn't know how to tell him that either. She cleared her throat. "Jack..."

He looked up, meeting her eyes, unable to read them. Then she broke into a full yet sad smile. It tilted her chin upwards, a little lop sided. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It made him want to reach out to her, pull her towards him hold her close and whisper what he felt against her skin. But he couldn't.

"Thanks," she said merely. It came out squeaky and strange sounding.

"You're welcome."

He shouldered his rucksack and turned around to walk back to camp; Kate followed him, staring a hole in the back of his head. She saw his wide, muscular shoulders moving as he walked, looking so ironically vulnerable. She wished she could touch him right there, in this moment, like he had just touched her, to make him feel what she had felt. But this was Jack and she was Kate and she couldn't.

He slowed down a little until he could hear her feet moving behind him.

He knew she knew he had waited for her.

He would always wait for her.

Walking closely behind Jack through the jungle, Kate bit back hot tears threatening to spill. She tried to concentrate on her feet and the ground, or the little hole in Jack's shirt right by the seem of his sleeve. Everything was so damn normal. It was as if nothing had happened.

But then she could still feel the spot on her throbbing neck and Jack's lips on her.

It felt almost like a blessing.

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